Love of the Mother
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: Sequel to Sins of the Father. Anjelo doesn't know who his father is, but at last Natasha tells him, and he wants to meet his father in the Human World. Meanwhile, Dante and Vergil deal with a demonic incursion, their memories still wiped clean of Natasha
1. The Truth

**Summary: **Sequal to "Sins of the Father." Anjelo grows up angry because he never knew his father, and his mother, Natasha, would never tell him about him. At last she breaks down and tells him, and begins researching a way to get back into the Human World to meet his father. Meanwhile, Dante and Vergil, living with Heather and their children, must deal with an incursion of demons attacking the city.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own DMC, don't own Forgotten Realms. Not recieving financial benefit from this in any sort of way. Very sad. Do own Anjelo, Natasha, Tlane, Ssalinisthiira, Heather, Michael, and Aeva. Happy about this.

The Truth

Anjelo watched as Razmira, the little girl across the street, was lifted into the air and swung around by her father, screaming with joy. The half-elf sat beneath the tree and felt the old anger rise, the old resentment. He had no idea who his father was. His mother, the famous Lady Natasha Nightsinger, would never tell him anything about his sire.

He hated her for that.

"I take it she still hasn't told you?"

Anjelo looked up to see Tusie, Razmira's older sister, leaning against the rough bark and regarding him with solemn eyes. "Of course not. Mother has never told me anything about him, and she never will. I'm a bastard child; that's all I know."

"Hey, at least you have your mother, and she loves you. Unlike our mother." Tusie came around the tree and sat down beside him, watching her little sister play with their father. "Sometimes I wish Razmira and I were as oblivious about her as you are about your father."

"Yeah, I know." Anjelo had been friends with Tusie for years; he remembered full well the day her mother had run away with one of the apprentice blacksmiths. What a scandal that had been.

They watched the interaction between father and daughter for a while, not speaking.

"How old are you now, Anjelo?" Tusie asked suddenly.

He looked at her, surprise in his gold-flecked sapphire eyes. "Eighteen. Why?"

"Among we humans, eighteen is considered the boundary between adolescence and adulthood. Aye, you are a half-elf, but wouldn't it make sense if your mother told you about your father now? Far as humans are concerned, you are an adult now. You have a right to know."

Anjelo looked away. He had been mulling that over for a few weeks now, ever since his birthday. That, and the strange power he had been sensing growing within his body in that time...

"Just ask her. The worst she can tell you is 'no.' Besides, I'm sure your mother would like to tell you. I could see the pain in her eyes when last you asked her." Tusie stood up, brushing grass and dirt from her breeches. "I'm sure there's a story there. All you must do is convince her to tell you."

"I suppose so. Maybe I will ask her." He gave his human friend a dirty look. "But don't expect me to tell you about it."  
"I hardly expect you to. This is your scandal, not mine." She flipped her brown hair at him and sashayed back to her house, where her father was calling for her to come inside.

Anjelo watched her go, and noticed several other of the village boys hanging around, watching the female with interest or him with jealousy. Tusie was one of the prettiest girls in Beregost, and the other young men of the town resented him for being her friend, for being what they thought of as her favorite.

He wasn't about to tell them it was nothing like that. He and Tusie were friends, but nothing more than that. She hadn't been interested in him romantically since she had learned exactly how different he was from other men his age.

With a small sigh, Anjelo got up and headed for the house he shared with his mother, unheeding of the deepening night painting the sky with lurid, swirling rainbows. His mother would have dinner on the table by now, and he suddenly found himself craving his mother's homemade stew.

"Hey Anjie!"

The voice was all too familiar. Wishing they would just leave him alone, Anjelo turned around. One of the village bullies, Neeber, stood at the mouth of an alley, his arms crossed and a nasty smirk on his ugly face. "You and Tusie were gettin' right friendly there a moment ago, weren't ya Anjie?"

Anjelo was silent, trying to rein in his temper. It wouldn't do to lose it now.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you, punk!" Neeber approached him, getting so close that Anjelo could smell his disgusting breath. "You deaf or somethin'?"

"No. However, I must admit that I despise your atrocious usage of proper grammer."

Neeber scowled. Anjelo knew he hated it when he used big words around him. "I said that you and Tusie were gettin' right friendly a moment ago. You plannin' on stealin' my girl, Anjie?"

"First of all, Tusie is not 'your girl.' She is not romantically involved with anyone at the moment, especially not a oversized gibberling such as yourself. Secondly, we are just friends. There are other girls I find more attractive than Tusie in Beregost." Actually, no there wasn't, but he wasn't about to tell this idiot that.

"You think Tusie's ugly!" Neeber roared, balling his fists.

Anjelo knew what Neeber was doing. The should-be ogrillion was trying to pick a fight so he could beat up on him as he had when Anjelo was younger, weaker. There was no way he could get out of this; the foolish human wouldn't let him. "No, I never said that. I just..."

Neeber's fist came flying for his face. Anjelo ducked it, and drove his own fist into Neeber's stomach, putting all of his strength behind the blow.

The bully went flying backward to smash into a wagon full of wooden barrels, making kindling out of the entire arrangement. Stunned, Anjelo looked at Neeber, than his fist, and back again. _What in Corellon's name... I've never been able to do that before!_

"White-haired freak!" Neeber spat, scrambling out of the smashed wood. "You're gonna pay for that!"

The next few minutes were nothing but pure fist-fighting, with both boys ducking and weaving around each other, swinging at regular intervals. Insults flew like arrows, and soon blood and teeth had joined them, scattering across the ground like precious rubies and ivory beads. Neeber landed a hit on his opponent that knocked the wind out of him, and smashed his knee into Anjelo's face. Anjelo fought through the pain like a madman, and head-butted Neeber. The human staggered backwards, blood pouring from the ruin of his nose in a crimson waterfall.

"Ya broke ma nobe, ya freak!" he accused, sounding as if he had the world's worst cold.

"That's the least you deserve, you barbaric imbecile." Anjelo couldn't believe how cold his voice sounded then. It sounded as if he didn't care if Neeber was hurt.

There was something in the back of his mind whispering to him, telling him that this boy was lesser than he was, and that because he had raised a hand against the perfection that was he, the human deserved to be destroyed. Anjelo fought against this voice too; he was no murderer.

"Get...out of...my...head!" he growled, clutching at his skull. _What's happening to me?_

_You have come of age, Son of Vergil, Firstborn of Sparda_.

"What?" He looked up just in time to see Neeber charging him again, and sidestepped the human at the last moment, sending Neeber barreling straight into a wall. As he watched Neeber writhing on the ground, groaning and clutching at his head, he looked down at his hands...

_He thought he saw claws where his fingers should be._

"No!!!" he screamed. Leaving Neeber behind, he raced for the city wall and out into the night, running away from the fight, trying to leave behind the thing inside his body, inside his head.

He didn't realize until much later that he had jumped over a ten-foot wall as if it wasn't even there.

DMCBGDMCBGDCMGBDCMBGDMCGB

Natasha paced carefully through the forest, her swords ready in their sheaths in case she found something other than her missing son. Anjelo hadn't come home for dinner, but while that wasn't exactly normal, she was used to it. Her son was a very angry half-elf, especially because she would never tell him the truth about his father. She had long since gotten used to him running off somewhere to be alone for a few hours. Faerun was a dangerous place, but her son could take care of himself.

What had convinced her to come out looking for him was a couple of visitors she had gotten an hour ago. Neeber, one of the town bullies, and his father Bresher had come to see her. Neeber had been an absolute mess, bloody with a broken nose, and missing most of his front teeth. He had glared at her from only one eye, the other so swollen he couldn't open it. Bresher had angrily told her that her 'freak-of-a-son' had done this to his boy, and then disappeared over the city wall like some kind of giant flea. Natasha had apologized profusely, and fixed up the human boy with one of her healing potions before going out to find Anjelo.

She knew she should have expected this. Considering Anjelo's bloodlines, sooner or later the demon would show up. And of course, it would be when he was involved in some kind of violence. She hadn't really known what she should have been expecting, but this wasn't it. _Your son is descended from an entirely different set of demonic bloodlines than other tieflings of this world_, she told herself. _Of course his blood would manifest differently than Haer'Dalis' or Vernifia's. _

There was a soft noise from ahead. She squinted slightly, trying to focus her infravison so she could see what had made it. She was close to the area Anjelo usually ran to when he wanted to be alone; could that be him?

A rabbit raced out from beneath the foilage, away from her. She relaxed slightly, loosening her grip upon Foebane and Answerer. The rabbit had been running from her, not from something she should be wary off.

A short ways farther, and she was at the waterfall. This was not the same one she and her companions had found so many years ago; this waterfall was the result of a spell-battle between rival mages that had completely changed the landscape, carving a river where before there had been none, and a canyon where before had been rolling hills. The waterfall spilled down the side of the canyon and _back up_ _the other side_, completely defying gravity in its bid to continue on its way to the ocean. Natasha couldn't explain that part - just some consequence of the magics that the two idiots had been throwing at each other that day - but she did accept it. Finding the trail down to the canyon's floor, she began to make her way downwards with extreme care. People had died trying to get down this trail before.

Reaching the bottom without incident, the elf-woman edged behind the spilling curtain of water into the cave network the spell-battle had opened. This was Anjelo's private thinking place, the sanctuary he went to when he needed to be alone. She was the only other person who knew about this cave, and the only person he would allow to come here. Natasha understood his need for privacy, and so she rarely came here.

But she needed to talk to him now. She had to know what had happened, from his point of view.

"Anjelo?" she called. She knew which cave he favored, but she wanted confirmation. She was asking permission to see him now, when he was at his most vulnerable, his most volatile.

"In here, Mother." He gave the permission, understanding what she was asking.

She approached the cave slowly, making sure he heard her coming. Anjelo was sitting in the middle of the cavern, obscured by the darkness that enveloped the cave. Like his mother, he was blessed with elven infravision; he needed no light to see. He lifted his head from his knees as she approached, and sat down beside him.

"Care to talk about it?" she queried softly.

"Mother, I just...I don't know what happened."

She put an arm around him, offering comfort as she had for so many years when he was in pain. He leaned against her, the actions of a frightened child rather than the man he was.

"When Neeber started fighting me, it felt like...there was something else... in my head. Telling me what to do, telling me I had to kill him. That he was... a mere insect compared to me, unworthy to even lick the mud from my boots. And such strength... Mother, I've always been strong, but never like that. Never like that." He closed his eyes, and she saw the warmth of a tear roll down his cheek. "I could have killed him..."

"But you didn't. Neeber is still alive. You are not a murderer."

"Mother, you didn't see what I saw. My hands..."

"What about your hands, _tha nasthar, _my son?"

"They turned into claws."

"What kind of claws?" Her tone was gentle; she had to know.

"Like no animal I've ever seen." He nuzzled his head more firmly against his mother's chest, wrapping his arms about himself as if he were cold. She knew that he was scared, terrified of what had happened. "What's happening to me, Mother? Is this what you spoke of when you told me about your time as a Bhaalspawn? The power growing until the Slayer took over your body and turned you into a blood-thirsty monster?"

"No. That power is sealed away forever, _tha nasthar._ You will not turn into the Slayer; Bhaal's blood does not run in your veins."

"Then what is this? What are these voices in my head, calling me the Son of Vergil, Firstborn of Sparda?" He shuddered lightly; the fear rolled off him in waves. "What's happening to me?"

Natasha was silent for a long time. She had known this day would come. She couldn't keep the truth of Anjelo's conception from him forever. "Anjelo... They tell you this because... It's true."

"What?" He lifted his head from her side, gazed at her with wide blue-and-gold eyes.

"I was planning on waiting until you were twenty to tell you, but if your blood is awakening now, I cannot keep it from you any longer. You must know the truth of your conception, of your bloodlines."

"'The truth of my bloodlines?' Mother, what else is there? I'm a half-elf; there is nothing more than that, is there?"

Natasha sighed, and looked at her right hand. A fingerless glove of soft brown leather covered the flesh of her hand; Anjelo had never seen her without it. "Yes, you do have both human and elven blood mingling in your veins. However, this is one more bloodline you carry, which I have never told you about. It has lain quiet until now, as far as I can tell." She stood up and went to the cave wall, where she knew a vein of quartz crystal traversed the stone like a frozen river. Not meeting her son's eyes, she continued. "You see, Anjelo, your father was no mere human adventurer. He is a proud warrior, the son of a mighty knight of powerful lineage. After I was separated from him and his brother, I used my magic to uncover the truth of their parentage, so I would know what I had been dealing with. What I found out is, to say the least, remarkable."

"Mother, you are dodging the question." Anjelo got up and went to his mother, stood behind her with crossed arms. "What is the third bloodline in my veins? Who was my father? And what does all this have to do with what's happening to me?"

"I was getting to that, _tha nasthar._" Finding strength in the glove covering her hand, the glove _he _had given her, Natasha turned to face her son. "You know already of the human and elven elements that make you you. However, the third element is...very different from those two. You see, your father was only half-human as well. But his other half was not elven. It was demon."

DMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBGDMCBG

Queen: _I told you I would make a sequal to "Sins of the Father!" This fic will tie in with my other fics, so Heather and the others will be making appearances as well. But the main view will be on Anjelo, Vergil, and Dante. Haven't decided if Natasha will stay in the fic or not. _

Vergil: _Queen, your muse really needs to take a vacation._

Dante: _C'mon, bro. You know she can't sit still unless she's written something. _

Queen (throwing back head in 'halleluiah' gesture): _Finally, someone who understands me!_

Vergil: _You've got three fics in progress now. Don't you think that's a bit more than you can chew? Especially with all those accusations of Mary-Sueness you've been getting lately..._

Queen: _Vergil, you know I don't give a damn about what flamers will say. I find it amusing that they find Heather and the kids so objectionable, but they find nothing wrong with Natasha, who is, despite her lack of OCness, basically the stereotypical Mary Sue. Yes, I created her, but she was a character in the Baldur's Gate games. She's not the traditional OC. _

Dante: _You're right. It is kinda strange that they hate Heather, but don't comment on Natasha. _

Vergil: _You realize that you've provoked them now, right?_

Queen (reaching out to turn off transmission for the night): _Do I really look like I care? _

(transmission ended)


	2. The Past Revealed

**Summary: **Sequal to "Sins of the Father." Anjelo grows up angry because he never knew his father, and his mother, Natasha, would never tell him about him. At last she breaks down and tells him, and begins researching a way to get back into the Human World to meet his father. Meanwhile, Dante and Vergil, living with Heather and their children, must deal with an incursion of demons attacking the city.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own DMC, don't own Forgotten Realms. Not recieving financial benefit from this in any sort of way. Very sad. Do own Anjelo, Natasha, Tlane, Ssalinisthiira, Heather, Michael, and Aeva. Very happy.

**Queen's Quorner: **I honestly don't know who to believe anymore. I am told that there are some DMC authors talking behind my back, and that some of these are on my 'Favorite Authors' list. But I am also told that nothing of the sort is going on. I would like to say this now, just for the record. **If anyone has something to say to me, whether it be bad or good, say it to my face! **What these people, whoever they are, have to say or complain about couldn't POSSIBLY be worse than some of the stuff people regularly say to me in my daily life. I'm more than a little sick of getting led around by the nose, here. If you hate my fics and my use of OCs, then don't read them. Nobody's making you read my fics! After all, I write these for myself as much as you. I'm nothing but nice in my reviews and private messages, as I'm sure some people could tell; I'd expect some kind of courtesy in return. Read on, if you wish.

The Past Revealed

"A... A demon?" Anjelo was beyond stunned. A fleck of dust would have been enough to knock him over at the moment. "I have..._demon_ blood in my veins?"

"Aye, _tha nasthar._" Natasha didn't look at him. "Your father was a half-demon."

"Am I the child of a rape?" he growled, hands curling into tight fists.

"Of course not!" Now she did look at him, and her gold-flecked emerald eyes were annoyed, angry, reprimanding. "He and I cared very much about each other. In fact, I can safely say that we were deeply in love when we separated."

"Then why did you leave him?" Anjelo demanded, tears welling in his sapphire eyes, the gold spatters across the irises glinting angrily in the minimal light.

"Do not cast me as the villian here, _tha nasthar._ Your father and I would have stayed together had that choice been left to us. We were separated by the gods themselves, not by free will!"

"The gods don't _care_ about your affairs anymore, Mother!" He was shouting now, all his rage and pain spilling out in a ceaseless torrent. He knew he shouldn't yell at his mother like this, especially when she had made so many sacrifices for him over the years, but he couldn't help it. He was angry, and Natasha was a handy target. "They haven't given a damn about you since you gave up your Bhaalspawn essence when you were twenty-one!"

"You are wrong, Anjelo. You wouldn't even be alive today if Hanali Celanil and Corellian Larethian had not interceded on your behalf!"

"What?"

"Anjelo, there is much more to the story than that. So very much more."

"I'm listening, Mother." He crossed his arms and glowered at her.

"Fine. It is your right to know, after all. The events that preceded your conception." Natasha settled herself on a small shelf of rock and opened her Bag of Holding. She never went anywhere without it. "You must be hungry. I brought some of yesterday's roast venison and some bread."

"Thank you, mother." He took the proffered meat and bread, put them together in a sandwich. "Now speak."

Natasha arched one elegant brow, but didn't comment on her son's commanding tone. "The events of which I am about to tell you cannot be found in any history book. Nor do the bards sing of them. The sages know nothing of them. I am the only mortal being in existence that knows anything about this. The gods wiped these events from the history of the Realms, from the minds of the people involved who survived. They were not ordained by the gods, and so they never occured, as far as the Realms is concerned. But they did, and you are the living proof of their occurance. The gods, when they discovered I had borne your father a child, decided that it would be best if you were destroyed. But I agreed to a deal with the leader of the elven pantheon and the goddess of love under his command, that they would save you from the wrath of the other gods. They have kept their end of the bargain, and someday so must I, but you are free from the contract otherwise." She lowered her head to bite one fist, the other arm wrapped around her abdomen. She had sworn not to tell anyone what Corellon had asked of her, what he had promised she would become once she left this life behind and went to Arvandor. Faerun would find out soon enough, once she was gone.

To never see the men she had loved once more in death...

"Mother?" Anjelo was right behind her, reaching out to touch her. "What happened?"

She shook the partly-depressing, partly-elated thought out of her head and turned to face her son. "Do you remember the family tree I showed you when you were ten? The one that showed all of the elven and half-elven descendants I have?" When he nodded, she continued. "There was one name scratched out within the line of my daughter Shania Delryn, one of her grandchildren, if you will recall. The child of Alaenasor and his wife Tilephina."

"Yes, but what does that have..."

"The family will tell you that all three of them were killed when monsters attacked them in the forest which surrounds Suldanessellar, that the father and mother had been out on a short walk in the forest when Tilephina went into premature labor. Ettercaps were attracted by the scent of the blood spilt while she gave birth, and there were so many of them that Alaenasor was overwhelmed. All three of them, father, mother, and newly-born daughter, were slain long before any rangers could arrive to save them. However, that is not the truth of the story. It is merely the tale planted within their minds by the gods to cover up the events set into motion by that same daughter's birth.

"The truth is that Tilephina gave birth in the safety of Suldanessellar a month prior to her husband's untimely death, a thing she accomplished with her own hands. The details are unclear, but what I know happened is that she led Alaenasor out into the woods, seduced him, and slew him while he was at his most vulnerable. His body was discovered a few days later, but by that time Tilephina and their daughter, Laraedina, were long gone. Both were presumed dead, but the truth was that Tilephina had stolen her daughter away to the Forest of Mir, where she herself had been raised. She reared her there with the aid of a few drow elves, and Laraedina grew up without friends, trusted relatives, or any of the comforts one might normally be afforded. The only law she knew was that of the animals: 'survival of the fittest, of the strongest, the most powerful.' This caused Tilephina's plan to backfire on her, in the end. Laraedina challenged her mother to a duel and slew her, taking her sword as her own and leaving Mir to accomplish her goals."

"Mother, how can this possibly be true? My half-sister's line says that Tilephina was a sweet, kind woman. She wouldn't hurt a fly!" Anjelo protested.

"That is because that was the image she crafted to gain Alaenasor's love, and the trust and approval of his family. In reality, Tilephina was a heartless woman who followed many of the same rules that guided her daughter. She killed because she _enjoyed_ killing. She chose to win Alaenasor's heart because his family, _my_ family, is regarded as some of the most respected and powerful elven and half-elven lines on Faerun. I do not know why she chose one of the half-elven Delryn lines when she could just have easily wed a male from one of my elven or dragon-blooded descendants - the Darksingers, Silvermoons, and Nightsingers would have gladly accepted such a strong, beautiful female into their lines - but Alaenasor was her choice, and she won him with ease. His seduction was a finely-crafted one, and it ultimately led to his downfall." Natasha flipped her long black hair behind her shoulder and shrugged. "In any case, one thing Tilephina did was to teach her daughter the stoy of the Bhaalspawn, and pounded into her head that I had been one, that she was descended from the Lord of Murder and I had given up my power, my birthright of violence and power, willingly. Laraedina latched onto that, and spent the entirety of her life trying to gain power so she could take what she thought of as her birthright."

"And that would be...?" Anjelo still didn't look like he believed his mother. His brow was arched and there was a look of humor in his eyes.

She glared at him. "The essences of Bhaal."

That startled him. His folded arms dropped to his sides and his eyes widened. "W-w...What? I thought you said there was no possible way that anyone could gain his power!"

"There is not _now_. Prior to the events I speak of, we all had thought the safety measures to be fool-proof. But Laraedina proved otherwise, and so the wards were made even more numerous and powerful than before. In any case, Laraedina followed the same belief my half-brother Sarevok once had, that if she took enough lives, caused enough death and destruction, that would prove her worthiness as the heir to Bhaal's Throne of Blood. However, over time she came to a different conclusion. She needed power of immense proportions to undo the seals and absorb the essences, and so she decided that she had to enlist 'outside assistance.'"

"Mother, there is no-one on Faerun with the power to undo those seals who is also crazy enough to _want_ to."

"True. That is the conclusion Laraedina came to. Not even the demon lords of the Abyss or the arch-devils of the Nine Hells would willingly help her release Bhaal's power so she could become the Lady of Murder." Natasha knelt on the floor and whispered a short incantation, sending an illusion swirling out from her fingertips. Toril spinning in the center of the cavern, surrounded by a never-ending sea of stars. "You know of the crystalline sphere which surrounds our world, correct?"

"Yes, I know my astronomy."

"There is no sphere."

Anjelo looked at his mother. "But you said..."

"I know what I said, _tha nasthar. _But if you will recall, when I told you that I was also teaching astronomy to Tusie and Neeber, as well as the other children in Beregost. Most of Faerun's sages and mages believe there is a crystal sphere that envelopes Toril and keeps us separate from the stars. However, I know for a fact that there is no such thing.

"Both Laraedina and I have been outside the sphere, without leaving the Prime Material Plane. We have traveled to other worlds."

"Other worlds...?"

Natasha smiled at him. "Close your mouth, _tha nasthar._ You might catch flies. To answer your question, yes, Abeir-Toril is not the only world that occupies the Prime Material Plane. There are others, many, many others. The one Laraedina sought aid from, and where I likewise went to find help, has two other worlds that parallel it, something similar to our world and, say, the Abyss. But these are the only worlds that accompany it, this world called 'Earth.' What we would know as the Abyss and Elysium, they call Heaven and Hell, or the Demon World. Laraedina sought to find a way into Hell, to enlist powerful demons to help her break the seals guarding Bhaal's essence. When I discovered what she was trying to do, I tracked her down and fought with her. My goal was to defeat her and bring her to a mage I knew, to try and talk some sense into her. But in battling her, I discovered that she was beyond redemption. Her lust for power had caused her to fall to insanity; there was no chance I could make her understand how important it is that the power of the Lord of Murder remain hidden away for eternity.

"In the end, I was forced to break off combat and retreat. Laraedina managed to create a gateway directly into the Demon World, and I erected one of my own. My hope was to make contact with mercenaries who had fought Earth's demons, people with experience I lacked. Earth's demons are very, very different from those of our world, you see. The first thing I saw when I landed on Earth was a man in a red leather coat, fighting a large amount of demons with a sword and weapons he called 'guns.'"

"You have one of those, Mother. That shotgun."

"Anjelo, you need to hear this part. Do not interrupt unless you feel the need to do so."

"Yes, Mother." He lowered his head, his long white hair falling to cover his face.

Her gaze softened, and she reached out a hand to stroke it back from the left side of his face. "I helped this man to slay them all, and in return he took me to his domicile, where his twin brother was waiting. There I told them my story, and they agreed to help me.

"The men I hired had much experience with hunting demons, it turned out, because they themselves were half-demons. The one I had met first was the younger twin, Dante. The elder waiting at their home was Vergil.

"Your father."

Anjelo didn't say a word. He was too busy staring at his mother, completely shocked. She sighed and twisted a lock of hair around her finger, avoiding his gaze.

"Through divinations, it was discovered that Laraedina and the demons who had agreed to help her were lost to us until we met them in combat on Faerun, or Mount Celestial, whichever came first. I took Dante and Vergil through my portal, and eventually to the mountain itself. We followed them to the summit of Mount Celestial, and there we did battle with them.

"But we arrived too late."

Natasha shuddered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "Laraedina had, with the aid of the demons, released Bhaal's essences and absorbed the majority into herself. The rest returned to their original vessel: me. I became a Bhaalspawn once more, with all the abilities I had given up for the sake of mortality and peace. Laraedina and her demons fought against myself and Dante and Vergil, and it was a hard fight indeed. At last, the demons were defeated and returned to their world. Laraedina, however, was too mad to allow herself to fall. In the end, I surrendered my body to the control of the Slayer one more time, and she took on the form of the Ravager. With the aid of Dante and Vergil, I managed to defeat her. But there was a price for this victory.

"Earth and Toril were never meant to be connected, save in the realm of entertainment. And so, the gods gave us a single day to spend in each other's company before they were sent back to their world, when all memory of their experiences here on Toril were cleansed from their conscious minds, relagated to the realm of dreams. This did not just affect them; anyone we three had interacted with here had completely forgotten about them and the events in which they took part. The only thing that nobody could explain was you."

"How did you explain me, anyway, Mother?" Anjelo wondered, idly waving his hand through the illusion still revolving about the cavern. "I had to come from _somewhere, _after all."

"Simple. I did not."

"You did not make something up to explain how you suddenly became pregnant?"

"No. My friends know that I enjoy the company of men. I never told them who your father was, and they left it at that." She lowered her head and closed her eyes, fingers lightly stroking the glove covering her hand. "I must tell you: Vergil never knew that I became pregant with his child. How could he? Our worlds are completely disconnected. There is no way I could let him know that he is a father." She sighed. "In any case, the story is done. Bhaal's essences are sealed so tightly that no-one could possibly release them ever again, the worlds are separated, and your life is paid for. You know your history now." She walked to the side of the cavern and dispelled the illusion, then turned to Anjelo. "Is there anything else?"

"May I see what my father looked like, at least?"

The elf-woman smiled, and cast another spell. From her hands flowed a colored mist, swirling and gathering into a distinct shape. The mist dissipated, and suddenly a man stood before Anjelo, a man dressed in an elegant coat of azure silk, holding a katana that resembled the weapons of Kara-Tur. He was a tall specimen, and he bore the same color of hair and eyes as Anjelo. However, his cerulean eyes were devoid of the golden sparkles that marked his own, and his snowy hair was cut in a much shorter, spikier style. There was a coldness in his handsome features, an emotion Anjelo had seen mirrored on his own countenance many times. More than anything else, that told him that his mother spoke the truth.

This was, beyond all reasonable doubt, his father.

He turned to his mother. "I want to meet him."

Queen: _Ha ha ha! I LIVE!!! _

Vergil: _God help us all... _

Dante: _Yeah, I thought we'd get a longer break from Natasha than this._

Queen: _Since when are you complaining about her? I thought you said she was a babe!_

Dante: _Well, she is, but..._

Queen (rolls eyes): _In any case, to those of you reading this fic I would HIGHLY recommend reading "Sins of the Father" first. It is not required of course, but there are some things that will be referenced to in this fic that you will not get unless you have read the previous one. I would also like to apologize for how long I took to bring in this chapter. I've been occupied with other fics and my life. College and annoying relatives. Yay._

Vergil: _This is coming from the girl who spends much of her free time playing video games..._

Queen: _Hey, that's not how I spend ALL of my free time! Besides, at least I got this chapter up. I could have used this time to work on my Final Fantasy VII story, after all. _

Dante: _Good point, I suppose. You could be spending even more time with those two silver-haired wannabes._

Vergil: _What were they're names again, anyway?_

Queen: _Kadaj and Yazoo. And actually, I will be spending a lot of time with them soon, but also with you guys. I want both of these fics, and all the others, finished soon so I can get started on some other ideas I have for fics. _

Vergil: _I still can't believe you're writing a fic about _them_. What's so unappealing about us?_

Queen: _There's nothing unappealing about you two. I just happen to have a white/silver hair fetish, that's all. _

Dante: _Then why isn't that third brother, that crybaby Loz, living with us too?_

Queen: _His hair's too short. And besides, the muse told me that he's only going to be a minor player in that fic. The focus is mainly going to be on Kadaj and Zhaira, with some Yazoo thrown in. _

Vergil: _I think you need a new muse..._

Queen: _No thanks. I pay this one more than enough already. Regardless, leave a review, please! I'd really appreciate them right now!_

Dante: _Reason being can be found in "Queen's Quorner" up at the top. See ya in the next chapter, people._

(transmission ended)


	3. Old Favors, Older Friends

**Summary: **Sequal to "Sins of the Father." Anjelo grows up angry because he never knew his father, and his mother, Natasha, would never tell him about him. At last she breaks down and tells him, and begins researching a way to get back into the Human World to meet his father. Meanwhile, Dante and Vergil, living with Heather and their children, must deal with an incursion of demons attacking the city.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own DMC, don't own Forgotten Realms. Not recieving financial benefit from this in any sort of way. Very sad. Do own Anjelo, Natasha, Tlane, Ssalinisthiira, Heather, Michael, and Aeva. Very happy.

Old Favors, Older Friends

"You want to meet him?" Natasha merely nodded. "That can be arranged."

"What?" Anjelo was surprised. He had been expecting his mother to deny his request, to tell him it was impossible and that there was no chance that he could ever go to this 'Earth' and meet his sire, Vergil. He had not been expecting her to say 'yes'!

She whirled around to face him, her long black hair flying out and then falling before one eye and shoulder, making her seem all the younger as she shot him a grin. "The portal to Earth which I erected has been closed for many years. The connection is completely severed. A Plane-shift spell will fail, because Earth is also on the Prime Material Plane. So would the usage of a Planar Gem, for the same reasons. Assuming we could even find one, that is. A trip to the Astral Plane would likewise be useless, because there is no guarantee you would arrive on Earth."

"So what's left?" he wondered, confused as to why she would be smiling if there was no possible way a spell or magical item could take him to meet his father.

Her gold-flecked emerald eyes were sparkling as her smile widened even further. "Ah, but there is a way. You forget, your mother had an extremely adventurous youth. She met many, many interesting people in her travels, and some of these people owe her favors. One of those can be called in now." Natasha turned away and started heading out of the cave. "Come, _tha nasthar. _I can contact him tonight, but I would prefer if we did so back at the house. There is still far too much magical residue in this area for me to dare the spell."

Anjelo followed without question, too overwhelmed to argue. _What is she planning?_

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Natasha centered her consciousness and focused on the spell gathering in her cupped hands. Seated tailor-style on the floor - well, actually above it. She was levitating about two feet above the rug - with her back ramrod straight, she ignored the impatient pacing of her son, who was circling her in his trek around the room. Every so often, he blew out an impatient sigh.

Anjelo had never had the patience required to become a spellcaster.

The spell was ready. She brought her hands up to her mouth, cupped her hands to her lips as if she was whispering into someone's ear. "Kellian Nal'eth'ezz, hear my voice. Heed my call. Come to Faerun, to the town of Beregost, with all haste. It is time for you to repay your debt."

Taking her hands away, she flung the spell skyward; it transformed into a fiery bird-like creature and rocketed away in a spray of sparks and flames. The spell finished, Natasha sank back to the floor and stood up, brushing herself off.

"There. He should arrive soon, probably tomorrow. You should get some sleep, Anjelo. It is very late."

"Wait a minute, Mother. Who exactly is this Kellian?"

"He is an old friend of mine, masquerading as a _dock-alfar_ of Earth. He is a drow elf, but I would trust him with my life. I traveled with him after Anomen's death, soon after rescuing Solaufein from Ust Natha." She crossed the room into the kitchen, pulling a pitcher of clean-boiled water from the cool space below the floor and pouring herself a drink.

"And how can he help me get to Earth?" He leaned against the wall with crossed arms, watching his mother drink. "I mean, what's so special about him?"

"Kellian is possessed of...special skills that will be useful in this dilemma. He owes me several favors, and this is his chance to repay _all_ of them." She swallowed the remainder of the water, and put the mug in the washing basin.

"What is he, then? A mage?"

She shrugged.

Anjelo snarled softly. He loved his mother, but he just didn't have the patience to be satisfied with that answer. "Mother, please. I know you can tell me more than that. Why this Kellian? Why not someone like Elminister or Khelben 'Blackstaff' Arunsun? Surely they have the power to get me to that world if you do not!"

"That's just it, _tha nasthar._ Both of them, and I as well, have the power to get you to Earth. We are some of the most powerful beings on all of Toril, after all. But our power isn't enough. The gods have hindered us in this matter, so the spells we could use are useless in this matter.

"However, there _is_ one way to get around this without angering the gods. And Kellian is just the person for the job. I do not know where he learned it, or how he joined their ranks, but Kellian Nal'eth'ezz is a Spelljammer."

Anjelo gave her a condescending look. "Mother, I don't know what that means."

"If you had paid better attention to your studies, you would." She smiled, and went to the door. "A Spelljammer is a person with the ability to jump between worlds on the Prime Material Plane. They can use ships, but most of them use helmets or their own innate abilities to jam. Kellian is one of the Helmeted Spelljammers, and is counted highly amongst their ranks. He can get to you Earth, and watch over you until you are ready to come home. I have been in contact with him over the years; he is working with your father and his brother in their business, Devil May Cry. They do not trust him very much, but he has proven his worth as a capable fighter and so they keep him close. So when he takes you, I expect you to be on your best behavior. Win Vergil over before you give him my letter."

"Letter?" Anjelo blinked as she opened the door, allowing their pet white wolf, Solis, into the house. "What letter?"

"The one I am about to write." Natasha gave him a wave and went into the sitting room and up the stairs, heading for her bedroom, Solis following close by her heels. "See you in the morning, _tha nasthar._"

Anjelo stayed in the kitchen, in the dark, for hours afterward, just thinking.

_Just wait, Father. I'm coming to meet you soon._

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Queen:_ Sorry this chapter is so short. I had so much in mind for this chapter, but it all just sort of...flubbed. _

Dante: _It probably doesn't help that you were listening to hard rock while you were writing this. _

Queen: _Probably not. Oh, and before you ask, yes, this is the same Kellian from "My Angel" and "Happy Anniversary." I told you that he would have a major role sooner or later. I had this all planned out for him, but I couldn't exactly put down that he was a Spelljammer in either of those fics, now could I?_

Vergil: _What exactly is 'Spelljamming' anyway?_

Queen: _I thought you'd never ask..._

Dante (throwing head back against the couch): _Oh dear God... Vergil, you got her started again._

Queen: Spelljammer _is a gaming universe/add-on for _Dungeons and Dragons_, just like _The Forgotten Realms_. It is essentially D&D put in a sci-fi setting, with all the usual races and some new ones put in space ships with lasers and that sort of thing. However, since it is a space-faring thing, that means any and all of the other D&D settings can be incorporated into a Spelljammer game. For example, you could go from Krynn to Toril to Middle-Earth in a single game! Isn't that cool? And it's even possible to put, say, characters from Oerth in _our _world! And that's not even the half of it..._

Vergil: _Queen, shut up. _

Dante: _Middle-Earth isn't even the property of Wizards of the Coast, dummy. _

Queen: _No, but I have seen games where D&D characters have been transported into Middle-Earth by a spelljammer, along with other worlds that aren't technically owned by Wizards of the Coast. It's just a damn shame that nobody really uses _Spelljammer _anymore. It was such a cool game, and it's just fallen by the wayside. Really hard to find anything having to do with it these days. _

Vergil: _So you are making it your personal mission to educate the public about it, is that right?_

Queen: _Not exactly. But if more people check it out after reading this, that will be cool anyway._

Dante: _In other words, yes._

Queen (shooting Dante a Look): _Shut your mouth. Anyway, read, review, etc, etc. Reviews make a writer very happy. _

(transmission ended)


	4. Goodbye Toril

**Summary: **Sequal to "Sins of the Father." Anjelo grows up angry because he never knew his father, and his mother, Natasha, would never tell him about him. At last she breaks down and tells him, and begins researching a way to get back into the Human World to meet his father. Meanwhile, Dante and Vergil, living with Heather and their children, must deal with an incursion of demons attacking the city.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own DMC, don't own Forgotten Realms. Do not own Elminister or Drizzt Do'Urden. Not recieving financial benefit from this in any sort of way. Very sad. Do own Anjelo, Natasha, Tlane, Ssalinisthiira, Heather, Michael, and Aeva. Happy about this.

Farewell, Toril...

Anjelo was soundly asleep when he suddenly became aware of a draft. Still mostly asleep, he reached down to pull his blanket up.

His groping fingers made contact not with soft wool, but instead with bare flesh.

_What the..._

His eyes flew open, and he rolled onto his back to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and stared at his legs. Then ground the heels of his palms into them, blinked, and looked again.

He wasn't dreaming. His blanket had somehow made its way to the floor, and the pants he normally slept in seemed to have taken their leave of him, leaving him exposed to the gaze of his neighbor next-door and the chilly breeze fluttering the curtains through his open window.

In other words, he was bare-arsed naked.

He whipped his head to the door just in time to catch sight of a long, fluffy tail of snowy coloration vanishing around the jamb, his departed pants dragging along beside it.

_Solis..._

The wolf obeyed the commands of only one person in this house. The culprit behind the reason why his lecherous, widowed neighbor ws staring wide-eyed at him from her window was obvious.

"MOTHER!!!"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Downstairs, Natasha fought to keep her laughter subdued. She had tried waking Anjelo earlier, but her efforts had been for naught; he was an extremely heavy sleeper. So she had removed his blankets and told Solis to "fetch pants." Now the white wolf was lying next to her chair, contentedly ripping her son's trousers to shreds. She smiled fondly at him and threw him a piece of bacon, which she was frying along with pancakes in the skillet. "Good boy, Solis. Good boy."

She heard Anjelo stomping down the stairs and picked up his breakfast, a stack of pancakes smothered in hot honey with crispy bacon and fried ham on the side, placing it before his chair at the table ust as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, resplendent in a colorful blanket.

"Good morning, _tha nasthar_!" she sang, pouring him a mug of ale. Lacking ownership of cows, she simply couldn't get milk as often as she would like. "It is a beautiful day, is it not?"

"Mother, I wouldn't know. The only thing I've seen this morning outside my window was that ex-courtesan, Faleen." He shuddered dramatically. "I know she likes men, even at her age, but I _never_ want to wake up to that again."

"Then awaken when I tell you to do so. I made your favorite breakfast, _tha nasthar._" Her expression was completely guileless, nothing but pure innocence. Anjelo, however, had seen that trick before. She was as fond of mischief as she was of men. He snorted.

"Don't change the subject, Mother. And don't bribe me." Still scowling, he sat down at the table and tightened his blanket around his waist. "Guess I have to eat this now, so it won't go to waste. Why'd you get Solis to steal my pants, anyway? That's a little sick to do to your own son."

"Anjelo, I changed your diapers and wiped your bottom when you were little and needed help in the garderobe. It is not as if I have never beheld your gods-gifted equipment prior to this morning." Natasha transferred her breakfast to its plate and took it to her chair, pouring some honey over her cakes and biting into some bacon. "As for why I stole your pants, perhaps this shall teach you to get up when you are urged to do so."

"And why did you feel the need to get me out of bed so early?" the half-elf grouched as he bit into his breakfast.

"Kellian arrived late last night. He is sleeping at the moment, but was eager to return to Earth." The elf-woman swirled a piece of pancake in the hot honey, bringing it up to her lips and biting delicately into it. "I feel the need to remind you that he is a drow, a dark elf. But he is not as...well, as _nice_ as Solaufein or Qilue. Be sure that you are nice to him, _tha nasthar. _I do not wish to lose you simply because he lost his temper. And please remember that he will take on a different appearance when he brings you to Earth. Humans are not so used to black skin and white hair there as they are here; in fact such a thing is very much unheard of." There was a soft shuffle at the doorway. "Ahhh, here he is."

Anjelo turned from his mother's grinning countenance to the doorway, where a smallish elven male stood shirtless, watching them. He had coal-black skin stretched tightly over a lightly-muscled frame, with long white hair cascading to his hips and blood-red eyes peering from behind his lengthy fringe. His face, though handsome, was absolutely expressionless.

"Good morning to you, Kellian. I had thought you would be longer abed than this."

"I could have said the same for you, Natasha. After all, we both tired each other out last night." A perfect white smile flashed, quicker than lightening, across his midnight countenance before departing, leaving him as unreadable as before.

"You always were rather skilled with those hips of yours, my friend," the elf-woman replied demurely, gold-and-green eyes playfully downcast. Anjelo stared at his mother, disbelieving.

"You _slept with him_?"

"Of course, _tha nasthar._" She sipped her ale, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "After Solaufein joined the Promanade Temple in the service of Lady Silverhair, the goddess Eilestraee, under the command of her favored priestess Lady Qilue, Kellian and I were left to our own devices, adventuring together for several years before he became a Spelljammer."

"And let me assure you, your mother is rather ravenous in bed," Kellian deadpanned, arms crossing before his chest. "Which of us went for the other first?"

"Honestly, I do not recall." Natasha's smirk widened as her son pushed his now-empty plate away and let his head drop to bang on the table.

"Mother, could you please not discuss the details of your love life while I am in the room?" came his muffled voice.

"As you wish, Anjelo." He didn't see his mother's grin. "Kellian, your breakfast is on the counter beneath the heat-dome."

"_Vale'en ish thilk dai ul'ulay, _Natasha." He fetched the plate from beneath the silvery plate-cover and joined her at the table, a goblet and bottle of wine materializing when he waved a hand. The elf-woman frowned when she read the label.

"Spiderblood wine, Kellian? That stuff is more poison then wine, you know."

"Only if you did not grow up drinking it. I did, and it is possessed of a far greater range of flavor than anything you surface faeries can brew. Even above your precious Feywine." He took a healthy sip and smiled as it passed through his throat into his belly. "Ahh... Perfect, as always."

"So... What is Earth like? Why do you prefer to stay there?" Anjelo asked, wanting to get on with things.

Kellian shrugged. "It's home."

The elf-woman rolled her eyes. "Anjelo, Earth is very, very different from Toril. It is a far more technologically advanced world, but there is little magic reminiscent of that which I or Kellian so often use. Our magic can be used there, but only with great difficulty, as there is no Weave to aid in the casting. More than that, the predominant race on its soil is humanity. I know there are some other races, but I could not tell you their names or what they are like. They mostly stay hidden from the humans, where they cannot be found."

"Everything will be new and strange, and more than a little confusing, when you first see it." Kellian finished chewing his fried ham and swallowed. "The period in which Faerun is currently embroiled, this age of swords and sorcery, is known as the Medieval Era, or Middle Ages, on Earth. The humans there completed it and moved on some five centuries ago. I know I was more than a little lost until someone showed me how to work a computer."

Anjelo tilted his head, confused. "What is a computer?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Earth's humans have come to depend on them for everything, the very continuation of the life which they know would be impossible without those machines. In fact, when they entered the second millenium, there was a general panic because it was believed the computers would not be able to handle the time-change." The dark elf smiled coldly. "Silly humans."

Anjelo decided to address that issue later, when he had met a few of Earth's inhabitants. "Tell me. How did... I mean, what's my..." He stopped, trying to figure out how to phrase the question.

Kellian saved him his embarassment. "You'll find out when you meet him."

"When are you planning on leaving?" Natasha queried.

"Once he's ready to go." The drow waved a hand at the half-elf. "He will not require much; I will be purchasing him some proper attire once we reach Earth. I would advise wearing a shirt and a pair of trousers, nothing more elaborate than that. And of course, he will need a weapon."

"I shall take care of that." Natasha gathered up the plates and took them to the sink. "Anjelo, if there is anyone you would like to say your farewells to, I would suggest that you go see them now."

Anjelo wanted to say that there was no one he wanted to see, but the truth was that there was indeed someone he wanted to say good-bye to. He nodded his acquiescence to his mother and went to grab some clothes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"Anjelo! Tosh me!" Razmira cried, racing towards the white-haired teen with arms outstretched. Tusie followed her out the door, arms crossed and a smile on her face, leaning against the wood of the jamb as her little sister prepared to tackle her friend.

Anjelo grinned and grabbed hold of the little girl beneath her arms, using her momentum to lift her off the ground, her legs swinging up between his own. The imminent danger to his family jewels didn't seem to faze him; instead, Anjelo's arms and back snapped in the opposite direction, sending Razmira skyward, arms and head thrown back as she screamed in delight.

Tusie smiled again. There was no danger to her sister; she was more secure in Anjelo's arms than she was in her those of her father.

She was lucky.

The half-elf swung Razmira back down, leaving her feet firmly on the ground this time. "Happy to oblige, kid," he commented, ruffling her hair and walking through the gate. She laughed and ran off, going to join her friends for the day.

Leaving Tusie alone with the man for whom she had cherished a secret love for the past five years.

She tried to supress her panic and nervousness as he approached, flatly squelching the desire to drool and stare. Anjelo was hands-down the most handsome man in Beregost, the one all the guys hated and envied, the one all the girls were crushing on. Tusie was no exception, no matter how casually she acted in his presence. She longed to thread her fingers through that cloud-soft wealth of snowy hair, to gaze into his gold-flecked lazuline eyes while held tight against his chest, his head bending closer to her as their hearts hammered against one another. More than anything, she wanted him to see her as something other than his long-time friend.

It seemed that Sune, the goddess of love, was not going to take pity on her this day.

"It's a bit early for visiting, isn't it Anjelo?" the young woman asked, trying to calm her pounding heart. "I mean, Father only just left for the smithy."

"I had to tell you something, Tusie. And I'd rather not face Neeber and his Idiots after I leave the yard."

"So, what is so important that you would risk getting beaten up to say it?" The young woman felt her pulse racing, beating at the base of her throat with the force of a warhammer. _It couldn't possibly be..._

"I'm going on a long journey, and I do not know when I shall return, if I even do. I might decide I like it more there than I do here." Tusie felt her heart sink as he continued, knowing what he was going to say. "So I came to tell you good-bye. You and Razmira are my only real friends in the town, after all."

She discreetly swallowed her disappointment, forcing a cheerful smile onto her face when she really wanted to beg him to stay. Far too many of the men she had known around the town had gone adventuring and had never come back. Or if they had, they had returned on their backs, heading for the graveyard. It broke her heart to think of Anjelo doing the same. True, his mother was believed to be on a level of power comparable with Elminister and Drizzt Do'Urden, but Natasha's son was not possessed of the same experience she had fought so long and hard to acheive. It broke Tusie's heart to think of him dying somewhere, before she even had a chance to tell him how she felt. "Well, good-bye and good luck to you. Just make sure you come back in one piece, all right? I don't have any other friends either. I'll pray to Helm, He of the Unsleeping Eyes, that you will be safe."

"I'll be all right, don't worry. Mother taught me everything I need to know about swordplay." He offered her a smile, one full of pride and self-confidence. "I can take care of myself. I don't need the gods to look after me." His smile faltered. "But if you must ask someone to protect me, offer your prayers to Corellon Larethian."

"The elven god of fighters?" Tusie furrowed her brow. "Is he your patron god? I thought you offered your prayers to Lathander Morninglord."

"I changed my mind."

She shrugged. His choice of faith was none of her business. "All right then. Both Helm and the Preserver of Life shall hear my prayers in the morning and the night until you come back."

He tilted his head to the side briefly, effecting an 'eh' expression. Pretending he really didn't care. "As you wish, then. I'll see you later, Tusie. Tell Razmira I said good-bye, ok?"

"I'll do that." Quickly, before she lost her courage, Tusie stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Good-bye, Anjelo. Good luck." Then she disappeared back inside the house, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it, her heart pounding. _I can't believe I just kissed him!_

Then the full force of his words hit her, and she slid down to the floor, fingers on her lips where they had touched him. _Come back safely, Anjelo. Get the adventuring itch out of your system, and then get yourself back to us. _

_Don't forget about me._

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anjelo stared at the door, dumbfounded. Tusie had kissed him. _Him._ Of all the men in the town, she had kissed _him_.

So she was just like all the other girls? Mooning over him, practically throwing themselves at him in an attempt to get him to sleep with them?

No. Tusie had never done anything like that. Instead of a tearful plea for him to stay or a long and flowery declaration of eternal love, she had simply told him to stay safe and kissed his cheek.

And instead of being angry or even annoyed, he was surprised to find that he wished she had kissed his lips rather than his cheek.

But he didn't pound on the door or make a scene, as Neeber or the other guys would have done.

He simply turned and walked away.

_She'd be better off with one of those jerks rather than a guy like me. _

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"So what have you decided to give me, Mother?" Anjelo asked, walking into Natasha's study. She had told him to come see her when he returned. That she would have his weapon picked out for him.

"So eager you are, _tha nasthar_." She turned to face him, her back to something long covered by a shroud of red velvet laying on the table. "I suppose you have a right to be, but you sound like a child recieving a new toy."

"And weapons are not toys." He mockingly repeated the mantra she had pounded into his head when he was younger and just learning how to handle a blade. "'They can extend your life or they can shorten it, and thus should be treated with respect, not as a child's plaything.' Aye, I know that, Mother. But you've never let me handle one of the magical blades before. _Of course_ I'm a little excited!"

She chuckled softly. "You have a point, _tha nasthar_. And the one I have decided upon for you is one of the most powerful blades I possess, a weapon that holds great religious significance for the race that forged it. So I would advise that you only use it when you feel it is absolutely necessary. Someone killed by this sword cannot be resurrected from the dead, unlike with any other weapon I own. And so, I have picked out a second weapon for you, a sword that is just as powerful, but not quite as dangerous. I would advise using it more than the other, but the choice, ultimately, is your own."

"_Mother,_" Anjelo growled, impatient to see what weapons he would recieve.

"My apologies, Anjelo. I am not only your mother, I am also a Swordmaster, remember? Forgive me if I lecture you as I would an apprentice fighter." She beckoned him closer and turned back to the table. "Here, then, are your new swords." She whipped off the shroud, unveiling two blades he had only ever seen mounted on the wall. A two-handed sword with a long, long blade made of pure silver-sheathed steel, its hilt an raven cast in gold, and a longsword forged entirely of blue steel, its pommel gem an enormous aquamarine. His eyes widened when he realized what they were.

The Vorpal Blade, the sacred Silver Sword of the Githyanki, and the Equalizer.

Two weapons known only in legend, to those who did not know Natasha possessed them. They were among his mother's greatest treasures, the two blades he had eyed for years but had never dared touch. He feared his mother's wrath too much to ever use them without her permission, and she _never_ let people touch them.

"I spent a lot of time and thought before I chose these blades, Anjelo. My half-brother Sarevok used the Vorpal Blade before he settled into using the Illithid's Bane, and I put the Equalizer to great use before coming across the Answerer. Their power is great, and it is for that reason alone that I chose them for your hands. They, more than any other weapons I possess, will keep you safe from that which you might face. Here." She picked up the Silver Sword, mindful not to touch the sharp edges of the blade. It could cut through a diamond as easily as hot butter; her fingers would stand little chance against such razored precision. Holding it securely, she offered it to her son. "Take it."

He looked at her quizzically, but finally took the hilt in his hands and lifted it. He had thought that it would be extremely heavy, but to his surprise the Silver Sword of the Githyanki was lighter than most of the mundane swords he had practiced with. Careful not to cut anything, he put it through a simple routine. The blade seemed _made_ for his hands.

"Enchanted for lightness and strength, able to cut through anything, capable of granting true death even to that which cannot be killed." Natasha approached him with the Equalizer in hand. "It is a weapon that cost me much to have reforged, but ultimately was more than worth the price. The Githyanki regard it as a sacred object, their Holy of Holies, and so I have had to fight off members of their race intent on reclaiming the blade many, many times. It has been long since they attempted to seize it; I do not believe they will trouble you on Earth if you weild it. I know you will make your own decisions regarding which weapon to use in a given situation, but I would offer you this piece of advise: do not use the Vorpal Blade unless it is absolutely necessary. The ability to grant true death, the death not only of the body but also of the soul, is one that requires careful limitations. Use it only when the situation calls for it. The rest of the time, I would advise that you use the Equalizer." She held out the longsword in both hands, her palms flat. "Even when it is carried only in the sheath and not in your hands, this blade can protect you from that which attacks the mind, charms and enchantments that would command your actions against your will. It will also do greater damage to people who are either extremely good, or irredeemably evil. The farther their heart is from the balance that is nuetrality, the more the cut of the Equalizer shall burn. Use them both wisely, _tha nasthar. _The choice between the Equalizer and the Silver Sword could be the judge of whether you live or die someday."

"Thank you, Mother. And I will. I will not disappoint you." Anjelo sheathed both swords in their appropriate scabbards and attatched them to a pair of belts. The belt holding the Equalizer was buckled around his hips. The other went over his right shoulder and under the left, settling the Vorpal Blade comfortably against his back. "Will I need anything else?"

"Aye, you will." The elf-woman paced over to her desk and opened a drawer, sifting around for a moment before pulling out a folded piece of black fabric. This she pressed into his hands before moving to the wall and taking down the shotgun. "Your father's twin used this, and it was he who gave it to me. I give it to you now to use as proof that you are indeed my son, along with this." She pulled off the glove she wore and gave it to him with the gun. "Your father gave me this glove. He has the mate. Even though his memory has been wiped clean, our adventures and relationship relegated to the realm of dreams and fantasies, this glove and this gun should serve as proof of your lineage. Along with the letter." She gave him a scroll sealed with green wax upon which had been pressed her symbol, a flaming crescent moon with twin swords crossed before it. "When you feel the time is right, show them the gun, the glove, and the letter. Hopefully, they will explain everything."

"And exactly how am I to carry all this?" Anjelo inquired, one snowy brow arched.

"The portable hole, of course." She took the square of fabric from him, unfolding it until there was a circle of black silk in her hands, three feet in diameter. That done, she spread it out on the floor. The fabric suddenly became a hole in the ground, ten feet by ten feet square and six feet deep. "It is an extra-dimensional space, so I would advise that you keep this away from any bags or chests of holding. It would cause an astral rift, and trust me when I say that you do _not_, under any circumstances, want that. There is already a ladder in there so you can get in and out easily, and no matter which way you turn it, it will never be upside-down. You can keep people in there, liquids, animals, anything. It can hold and sustain practically anything that fits. Just like my bag of holding, except that people can ride around in it. I have already packed an assortment of potions in there, so you should have everything you need. You do not need the enchanted items I would normally give you. Your demonic blood can give you far more speed, protection, and strength than my items possibly could." Natasha gave him the portable hole back after folding it back up. "Kellian is waiting downstairs. You should go."

"Aye, I should." He stood still for a moment, debating with himself, then walked over to his mother and wrapped her in a hug. His actions surprised the smaller female for a moment, and then she reached her arms around him and returned the embrace with as much strength as she could muster. "I don't know if I'll ever see you again, but I know I'll miss you, Mother."

"Go with your mother's love, Anjelo, and choose the destiny that is right for you, be it here or be it on Earth. And incidentally, you are welcome."

"Sorry, Mother. Thank you for the weapons and the portable hole." He gave her a final squeeze and released her, accepting her kiss on his cheek without the usual protests. "Farewell, Mother."

"Be safe,_ tha nasthar._" She kept up her brave face until he left the room and his boots had tromped down the stairs, until she heard the curious popping noise that indicated spelljamming, and then she crossed the room to collapse at her desk, weeping softly into her hands.

It was never easy letting one's children go.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Queen: _From this point on, there shouldn't be any more from Natasha directly. I can't say promise anything, though. The muse might tell me to get her in there. What I _can _promise, however, is that Dante and Vergil will _finally _be making their appearance in the next chapter. _

Dante: _I was starting to wonder when you would be introducing us. I mean, this is a _Devil May Cry _fan-fic. Wouldn't be DMC without us!_

Queen: _Do you not trust me? I wouldn't leave you out of it._

Vergil: _Queen, why don't you explain exactly who the three gods mentioned are. I find it highly unlikly that most of the people reading this have ever had anything to do with _Dungeons and Dragons_, much less with the _Forgotten Realms.

Queen: _If you insist... Fine. Here is the basic run-down. Corellon Larethian is the leader of the elven gods, the Seldarine, which translates into "Brothers and Sisters of the Forest." He is the patron deity of fighter/mages (like Natasha), poetry, music, the arts, and warfare, and while he is actually both male and female, he is almost always depicted as a male sun elf. That means he has blonde hair, green or silver eyes, and skin that is permanently bronzed. He's one of the gods of Good. Eilestraee is his daughter by the goddess Lolth the Spider Queen, evil patron goddess of the drow people. She is a good goddess, and holds sway over the realms of dancing, warfare, music, the arts, hunting, and warfare. Eilestraee is also dedicated to peace between the drow and their surface cousins. She is extremely tall with long silver hair and eyes, and black skin. Her worship is forbidden among the drow, punishable by death. She was once a member of the Seldarine, as was Lolth (then known as Auraushnee), but when her mother and twin brother Vhaeraun tried to dispose of Corellon she willingly left, to act as a balance for their evil. Helm is the god of guardians and loyalty, a god that eternally keeps watch over the Abyss. He is a human god who is usually garbed in plate armour, and is one of the gods of Nuetrality. Sune Firehair is the human goddess of love and beauty, one of the Major Powers of the human pantheon. She is a vain and unpredictable goddess, known to sleep around with any and every of the gods that appeals to her. She is exceptionally beautiful, with red/gold hair that constantly moves and waves like fire, hence the name Lady Firehair. If you want more detail than that, ask me about it via a PM. I'm not putting down any more than this here._

Vergil: _That's actually more detail than I was expecting, but it works. _

Dante: _How exactly do you pronounce that one female's name, anyway?_

Queen: _Qilue. Her name is pronounced "Kill-you-eh." There's supposed to be an accent mark over the 'e', but the computer's being difficult. _

Dante: _Pretty name. What about that other drow, the guy you mentioned with Elminister?_

Queen: _Any fan of the Forgotten Realms could tell you that one. He is Drizzt Do'Urden, pronounced "Dri-zzz-t Doo-Ur-Den." If I was really being nasty, I could have used his House's ancestral name. _

Vergil: _Which is...?_

Queen (smirking evilly): _Daermon Na'shez'baernon. _

Dante (whistles, impressed): _Wow. That's definately a tongue-twister. _

Queen: _Read the Forgotten Realms fan-fiction if you want to know more about him, Dante. To those of you still listening to this nonsense, please, leave a review in the right place. I could really use the encouragement! _

Vergil: _You wouldn't have this problem if you wouldn't write such controversial stuff, Queen._

Queen: _That's not an option, Vergil, and you know it. I don't care whose toes get stomped or whose feelings get hurt. If the muse brings it to me, I'm writing it. It may not get published, but I will get it down on paper. To those who hate this mindset of mine, I would direct you to the beginning of chapter 8 of "Happy Anniversary." There's a letter there that I wrote specifically for people like that. Regardless, I believe I shall go now. _

Dante: _Queen, don't get off the Net, ok? I have some sites I want to look up._

Vergil: _Translation: Dante has found some new porn sites._

Dante: _HEY!_

Queen: _What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?_

Dante: _No, it's just... Well, I... _

Vergil: _Great comeback there, brother. _

Dante: _It isn't porn, I swear!_

Queen: _You can get on the Net later, Dante. When I'm not in the house. _

(transmission ended)


End file.
